Possession
by Dee Moyza
Summary: "I am Edea Kramer. I've been a sorceress since childhood. The power of another is nothing I cannot handle. Nothing has changed. Nothing will." (Pre-game, one-shot)


_(Disclaimer: As a work of fanfiction, the creation of this piece does not imply ownership of the Final Fantasy franchise, its characters, or any affiliated intellectual property.)_

"Remember, you have to remember." Edea pressed her fingers to her temples and repeated the words to herself. She walked through the empty orphanage, so cold now in the winter's night, so dreary without the voices of the children. She walked into one of the bedrooms, looked at the little beds lined up against one wall, and pointed to each, saying aloud the name of the child who had, until recently, laid their head to rest there. "Ellone, Quistis, Selphie." She walked to the room across the hall and did the same for the boys' names, fumbling through her memories a bit before she remembered Irvine's name. Then, she went into her own room and looked into the mirror above the dresser.

"Edea," she said. "I am Edea Kramer. I've been a sorceress since childhood. The power of another is nothing I cannot handle. Nothing has changed. Nothing will."

She repeated this to herself several times a day. A mantra. A prayer.

She wished she could believe it.

But she saw the way her eyes flashed yellow from time to time, saw the faint purple tendrils descend from her hairline, as if someone was applying strange makeup from inside of her. She saw her fingertips take on a bluish tinge, saw the frost they left behind on everything she touched.

She was afraid of who she was becoming, of what she might do, even to those whom she loved the most. _Especially_ to those whom she loved the most.

That's why she'd sent them all away.

She sat on her bed, which felt much larger now that Cid was not here to share it, and hoped the children were well. She wondered how Cid's project – _their_ project – was progressing. It had been over a month since she'd heard from him last. He'd protested when she sent him out to develop the Garden, but she'd insisted. "You are doing this for our future," she told him. "For the future of the world."

"But I'm concerned about the overall mission of this 'Garden,'" he said. "You told me it would raise children to fight sorceresses, to kill sorceresses."

"Only those who present a danger to others."

"What if that's you? What if they must fight you?"

Edea laughed and nudged him out the door. "That will never happen."

She'd lied. She'd lied knowingly, feeling her new powers stir inside her as she did so. But it was for the best. As much as she missed Cid, as much as she wanted him here to comfort her and ground her in a world that seemed to be constantly shifting, she knew he was more useful out there, setting up the world's defense for the moment she could no longer hold off the force that was spreading through her.

Until the preparations were complete, however, the battle was hers alone to fight.

She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, but as she slipped toward the edge of consciousness, the brazier on the table against the wall flared to life, its fire spitting and sparking and threatening to set the table ablaze . She sat up and directed an ice spell at the flames, quelling them and plunging the room into shadow. She turned on the small lamp on the nightstand and went to the mirror again.

She looked at her reflection, at the tendrils creeping farther down her face, and tried to steel herself against the fear. She took a deep breath. "I am Edeimecia."

Edea stumbled backwards from the mirror, grasping her throat. An unknown voice had mingled with hers, had said its own name. "No … yes," she said, feeling as if something was lodged in her chest, slithering into her mouth, bitter and vile on her tongue. She screamed, long and loud, until her throat was raw and her voice was hoarse, trying to clear the unwelcome presence from her body. She approached the mirror again.

"I am Edea Kramer," she rasped. "I've been a sorceress since childhood. The power of another is nothing I cannot handle. Nothing has changed. Nothing will.

"No … everything already has."

\- END-


End file.
